DISCOVER NEW MUSIC AND BUST THE BLOCK

It’s fantastic when someone I know wants to share a favourite song with me and, more so, when it’s one of my teenage daughters. I’ve watched (and listened to) their musical meanderings for many years now and I can see how their music preferences reflect their different personalities and sensibilities, or is it the other way round? One of the things I’ve learnt is that they each have their own taste and the joy is in their own discovery of a song or an artist (without me hanging around forcing Radiohead on them). We have been to quite a few gigs together, usually with them in the mosh and me up the back somewhere. The last concert was alt-j and this is the song we all hold tightly to:

One of the things we love are our long roadies to the mountain – usually five or so hours on a Friday night in winter. Our routine is 30 minutes of headphones and 30 of chat. There is tacit agreement to being cocooned in a car with filmic music flooding through our senses as the world whizzes by outside. It’s a given that we will all listen to this song on every road trip (and often I wonder if we’re all listening to it simultaneously):

One of the bands we love is Bombay Bicycle Club. They feature on all our playlists, so we were equally gutted when we found out they’d gone on hiatus. If you’re ever stuck with what to listen to, put one of BBC’s albums on in this order: A Different Kind of Fix; So Long, See You Tomorrow; Flaws; I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose:

So, my girls have allowed me to share their playlists, the songs they love and listen to on a daily basis. Do listen, theres a lot of great music on each of these lists. Perfect for the weekend – and, hallelujah, it is here!! I’m off to see The Chills and Tiny Ruins tomorrow night – might see you there….

I work in a very quiet law office, known at The Library (which would be perfect if it actually was). We have the tummy-rumblers, the furious chewers, the involuntary sighers and the out-loud-thinkers. I probably fall into three of those camps. In some ways it’s a respite from the noisy world but I miss listening to music, and always look forward to shoving my headphones into my ears on the walk home. I’ve put together a playlist of songs I’m listening to at this very moment. See the link below. And the very cool thing is there’s a song on the list by my work colleague’s band, Mecuzine. I like to think that while he’s tapping away on the keyboard he imagines it’s not a computer but his piano and he’s hearing the song in his head. Mecuzine’s members have serious NZ rock cred. Album due out 13 July.

As soon as I heard Death Cab for Cutie had a new song, I had to immediately go and listen to it (in the bathroom at work). Although the band (and we) miss the brilliance of guitarist Chris Walla, Gold Rush still brings the clever lyrics DCFC are known for, even with the hackneyed distortion of Ben Gibbard’s voice. And the hook at the start is from Yoko Ono…

One of my picks for album of the year, Microshift by Leeds-based band Hookworms, is well worth listening to. It’s the band’s third and most accessible record – less abrasion, less drone and less overall noise and fuzz. It jumps across genres – post-punk, indie rock, electronica while maintaining an overall euphoria and jubilance. If you like Arcade Fire or LCD Soundsystem this is the album for you.

If you’re in the mood for genuinely happy pop (and who isn’t), listen to four-piece, The Beths. And these just aren’t any old Beths. They are our very own Beths hailing from Auckland. Press play for Dopamine.

A well written music review is a thing of beauty. A reviewer is a rare bird-dog, half writer and half music boffin, and a good review captures the best parts of both. Reviews are usually bite-sized and easily enjoyed over small moments. In the morning I always turn first (yes, old school newsprint) to the reviews in the newspaper. It’s especially delicious if I’ve been to the gig or listened to the album. Reviews serve a useful purpose too, guiding us deftly through the assault course of instantly-accessible music. In this way, I think they have assumed a greater influence than previously, providing a welcome steer to people flummoxed by the over-abundance of choice.

I really like this review of S.Carey’s album Hundred Acres (as well as really liking Hundred Acres). Although I don’t agree with the score, the writing (and the album) has some beautiful moments: Where Vernon relishes poetic extravagance, layering his band’s music with numerology and a pine-scented sense of lore, Carey’s appeals to the heart are far less adorned. I don’t think I’ve read a more apt description of Vernon’s music (otherwise known as Bon Iver) as a pine-scented sense of lore. Although Pitchfork is most definitely up its own ass, the contributing writers are brilliant.

And then there is Alexis Petridis, the Guardian’s rock and pop critic. I often concur with Petridis’ reviews, so he’s a pretty safe bet when I want to hear something new. Have a read of his review of Young Fathers’ album Cocoa Sugar. I first listened to Cocoa Sugar on a Monday night after a Hell Day at work. I was knackered. No energy reserves whatsoever. But after a few minutes of listening to this album I was successfully mortifying the kids with my ridiculous dance moves. So good. Cocoa Sugar isn’t a particularly easy listen (we’ve got Carey’s Hundred Acres for that) but it’s a furious, energetic take on the modern world. It feels like today.

There’s something about Walk It Back that gets under my skin. I think it’s the cheesy melody at 1.16. Perhaps it’s tapping into an old memory in my head – some 80’s TV theme maybe – it’s so familiar. Can anyone help?

Will leave you with this perfectly-formed little gem from Anderson .Paak

It’s a little less than a month until Auckland City Limits kicks off at Western Springs. There are the big headliners in the outstanding lineup – Legendary Grace Jones, prolific multi-genre musician Beck and painfully honest Will Toledo of Carseat Headrest (Best Albums 2016) but it’s going to be difficult to pick a favourite. I’m looking forward to seeing kiwi collaboration The Beths and their upbeat take on 90’s alt-rock.

American indie-folk band The Head and the Heart are a big deal too. Have a listen to ‘Library Magic ‘ (isn’t that a phrase so perfectly knitted together). I’m hoping they appear in the late afternoon sun.

I’m beside myself to see Aaradhna. I’ve listened for a long time but never seen her live. I’ve heard she has immense stage presence. Listen to her incredible voice here:

And we’ll be treated to the gorgeous harmonies of The Staves

And, of course, there is the brilliance of Thundercat. Too much! Hope to see you there – tickets are nonsensically still available….

Like this:

I’m not entirely sure that ‘psyching’ yourself into something is even a term now. We used to use it a lot in the early 90’s about the same time as ‘Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway’ hit our bookstores and shook up our inner demons . Standing up big and punchy to our anxiety (not that we knew what it was back then) took a lot of energy. A lot of psyching up in front of the mirror was going on. Whatever the positive affirmation, there was usually an accompanying energising track. For me it was often something by R.E.M or the Pixies.

So I was thinking today, what are my 2017 psyche-up songs? The songs that are required when I need something to push me out the door. I’ve picked 6 pearlers and, because this blog is about new music, I’ve kept it to any song released in the last three years. And, yes, I have yelled aloud the ‘woop” at 5:20 of ‘Under the Pressure’. It felt exceptionally good.

This is The World of The Theatre, The New Pornographers

No psych-up playlist of mine will ever be without a song by the NP’s. These guys are the all-time masters of the uplifting chorus. Stay with this track till 1:35 and you’ll see what I mean. If you love it, check out Challengers and Champions of Red Wine also.

Giant Peach, Wolf Alice

This is old-school gold, a drums and guitar driven big song. The difference is that all the members of Wolf Alice are under 25 years old. Oh so good when you need a short and fiery boost.

Let it Happen, Tame Impala

For those moments where there’s nothing you can do to change a situation. Pour a glass of wine, sit back and let it happen. Not so much a psyche-up perhaps but more a rise-above-it-all song. From one of my favourite artists and one of my favourite albums. Shifting and shimmering with the ghosts of Pink Floyd and Kraftwerk.

What Went Down, Foals

Get ready. This is a bloody angry song to be listened to when you’re bloody angry. Essential psyche-up for giving someone the verbal bird. And, more importantly, it’s got a wonderful bridge at 2:55. Love it.

Under the Pressure, The War on Drugs

Adam Granduciel is having the best time on this track. The pressure certainly doesn’t seem to be dragging him under. It’s got a lovely build starting just after the 3 minute mark. You may find the long drone at the end a bit much but try and hold on to the fist-pumping from earlier and you’ll be right.

Goshen ’97, Strand of Oaks

I’ve never come across a band who’s name is so incongruous with its sound. You’d imagine that the members of Strand of Oaks would be in billowing muslim shirts, holding hands in a circle and harmonising right? Well, actually, no.

I’d love to know what your psyche-up songs are? I reckon we can make a collective playlist…

Dad and I have just returned from the UK, a two week holiday to mark his 90th birthday. One night, over a bottle of sauvignon blanc, I asked him if he wanted to be young again. ‘Of course,’ he said without hesitation, ‘I wish I could go back to being 48.’ I was surprised, being only a couple of years north of that myself and already feeling somewhat ancient. He saw my reaction and smiled. ’48 is the age when the last of you was born’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want to be alive if you weren’t.’

Early the next morning, as I was rambling around the country lanes in Rye while Dad slept, a song by Father John Misty came on my playlist. This one:

It’s from Misty’s album Pure Comedy which was released in April. I had listened to the album a couple of times but, missing the rich vaudeville feel of his previous albums, I’d left it at that. But this time was different. Whether it was seeing the world through a 90 year old’s failing eyesight or not, the song got to me. And that’s all you need with music isn’t it – to affect you in some way – to make you move or sing along or have a bloody good long sob (the latter in my case as I understood there can never be a magic mountain). The rest of the album followed easily.

Father John Misty, a self-described ‘sarcastic Michael Buble’, is an outlier in the indie music world as he is possibly more fascinating than his music. He was once the drummer for the sleepy Fleet Foxes before he busted out with a rakish performance on Letterman’s Late Show singing ‘Bored in the USA’.

On Pure Comedy he espouses 70 minutes of home truths which could be sanctimonious if the songwriting wasn’t so damn brilliant. He delivers biting, cutting lyrics in a voice so smooth it’s easy to forget he’s ranting about climate change, social media, religion and politics. I had a nagging sense of deja vu all the way until I realised what I was really listening to was a millennial Elton John in the midst of a depressive episode. It’s on stalks in this track:

If Pure Comedy gets under your skin, have a listen to Misty’s previous albums: Fear Fun and I Love You, Honeybear. He has also released a number of songs under his real name, Josh Tillman. They’re exceptionally maudlin. I love them but many don’t.

Another beautiful and thought-provoking album is Sampha’s Process. It’s honest, intensely melodic and moving. You may have already heard Sampha’s husky soulful voice on albums by Solange, Kanye West, Drake, FKA Twigs and Frank Ocean. Now, with his debut album, he has come into his own.

One of many highlights is ‘(No one knows me) like the piano’, a gorgeous ode to his mother who passed away during the recording of the album:

Harding has two voices – one reminiscent of Kate bush or Joanna Newsome, the other PJ Harvey – and each as captivating as the other. What astounds me about this album is both its quiet power and Harding’s deft control as she unfolds her thoughtful lyrics. Party is not something you’ll want to dance to, but it is a mesmerising and addictive listen.

We live in an old chaos of the sun,Or old dependency of day and night,Or island solitude, unsponsored, free,Of that wide water, inescapable.Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quailWhistle about us their spontaneous cries;Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness;And, in the isolation of the sky,At evening, casual flocks of pigeons makeAmbiguous undulations as they sink,Downward to darkness, on extended wings.

Stanza VIII, Sunday Morning – a poem by Wallace Stevens

Sunday Morning is considered the breakthrough poem of this great American Modernist poet. It’s not an easy poem and any obvious answers to its themes are well beyond our reach – what happens when we die (!) – but it’s the bittersweet impact of the individual words I’m drawn to. In this stanza we’re all over the place, flying one second and plummeting the next. It’s a bit like Sunday too – a blissful day off until the thought of ironing shirts for the working week and doing the bloody supermarket shop clouds any hope of relaxation. I wonder if Wallace Stevens ever felt the Sunday blues. By day he was a besuited middle-aged insurance executive with a Churchill physique, by night (or perhaps only on Sundays) a poet of majestic significance. He must have had immense control – to spend the greater part of a life behind a desk while allowing his imagination to run wild only outside working hours. Until he let seriously loose and broke his hand on Hemingway’s jaw that is. In his three-piece suit of course.

Like this:

I’ve been transfixed lately by a beautiful new album by Virginian couple Lauren and Daniel Goans, otherwise known as Lowland Hum. If you’re in the mood for some Van Morrison or Cat Stevens, play this instead. The music is simple and unadorned with lyrics focussed firmly on the outdoors. As they aptly note in third track In Flight, ‘sometimes a walk is all you need.’

Every month Rolling Stone magazine recommends ten new country/Americana artists to hear. It’s a good read and covers the whole spectrum of the massive country genre – from the traditional sounds of Hank Williams/Loretta Lynn to honky-tonk that is pushing right up against other genres, such as funk and soul. The writing has some refreshingly gentle humour in it too: Newcomer Devin Dawson is described as sounding like ‘John Mayer, if he’d grown up listening to Garth Brooks and worried more about other people’s feelings’; and Lucas Hoge as ‘easygoing, optimistic pop-country that won’t upset any delicate constitutions.’ The link is at the bottom of this post.

We’ve got some very talented alt-country/alt-folk artists in the Southern hemisphere too – here are a few I’ve been listening to lately:

Julia Jacklin, from the Blue Mountains in New South Wales, is a classically trained singer who produced a debut album last year full of confessional, bittersweet alt-country gems. It doesn’t surprise me that she loves Fiona Apple. She’s in concert in Auckland on May 27th at the Tuning Fork – go see her if you can.

Aldous Harding and Marlon Williams – both Kiwis, both immensely talented singer-songwriters. This creative couple live in the artsy hub of Lyttleton. Williams blew everyone away with his debut album Marlon Williams. He’s got huge stage charisma and a resonant arresting voice. Harding is equally mesmerising. She is incredible in concert, as if her life depends on the delivery of each song.

Another Kiwi to watch is Nadia Reid. Music critics all over the globe are smitten with her music, largely due to her warm, intimate voice. Her latest album ‘Preservation’ is a spare listen, just her voice and an acoustic guitar, but it’s full of interesting utterances that can catch a listener by surprise. Nadia is touring NZ end of March, early April and tickets will be selling fast. Click on this for info http://nadiareid.com. Sing on NZ!

….warned Virgil in his poem The Aeneid. Laura Marling, a talented British singer-songwriter with both wisdom and a voice far beyond her 27 years, found the quote hilarious and had part of it tattooed on her thigh: ‘Semper Femina’ in Latin. Over the years the phrase grew into a nine track album. On it Marling sings

‘Oh Nouel, you sit so well
A thousand artists’ muse
But you’ll be anything you choose
Fickle and changeable are you
And long may that continue.’

Semper Femina is Marling’s sixth album and one of her best. The spotlight is on female friendships – relationships that have saved her, others more fractured and complex, all meaningful in some way. You can hear Marling’s influences at play: Joni Mitchell in ‘Nouel’; Nick Drake in ‘The Valley’; Neil Young in ‘Nothing Not Nearly’. But it is the close of the album that has stayed with me – the sound of determined footsteps, a slammed door. These mirror the sounds in the closing act of Henrik Ibsen’s play A Dolls House, as Nora Helmer leaves her husband and children in order to find herself. The year was 1879.

Although Semper Femina doesn’t hurl its message full throttle at the listener, there is certainly a clear statement running through it – that woman can be as fickle and changeable as she wants, as she is free to be.

Like this:

The British 3-piece are back with the first single from their forthcoming album – and it’s very lovely – a full minute of woozy instrumentation before we hear the almost Gregorian voices of Gus Unger-Hamilton and Joe Newman. I love the classic soft rock in the chorus at around the 2:38 mark (think REO Speedwagon), and of course Wolf Alice’s Ellie Rowtree making a cameo appearance in the last minute of the song. Bliss.

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I saw a brilliant documentary last night. It was equal parts warmth and tragedy, and as funny as hell. The two subjects were eccentric, co-dependent and loved each other to bits. As I watched, the enormity of their deaths within a day of each other hit me. How could these vital, talented people be gone? But, two days after Christmas last year, 60-year old Carrie Fisher went into cardiac arrest on a flight from London to LA. She died four days later followed swiftly by her mother, Debbie Reynolds. After seeing ‘Bright Lights’ I now understand what dying from a broken heart really means. I’d felt the same poignancy listening to Leonard Cohen’s ‘You want it Darker’ and Bowie’s triumphant ‘Black Star.’ What courage – to square off against one’s own mortality. 2016 was a brutal year for many reasons that we’re all acutely aware of. A tweet I saw summed it up perfectly: Is Quentin Tarantino directing 2016? Luckily, out of the shambles, some excellent new music surfaced. And isn’t that one of the important things? The stuff that is created? The stuff that lasts? I think back to being curled in the corner of my bedroom transfixed by ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’; and drunkenly singing ‘Take it easy’ by Glen Frey outside the Duke of Marlborough Hotel; and belting out ‘1999’ with beloved friends at Lake Taupo on the eve of Y2K. And, of course, I’ll never ever forget Princess Leia.

Here are 25 wonderful albums from last year (in no particular order):

RadioheadA Moon Shaped Pool. This is why Radiohead is one of the best bands in the world. Sublime, but don’t rush it – it gets better with every listen. Highlights: Daydreaming; Burn the Witch; True Love Waits.

James BlakeThe Colour in Anything. Choir boy whose heart overflows with Soul. Highlights: Meet You in the Maze; Put That Away and Talk to Me; Radio Silence.

Frank OceanBlonde/Blond. More a work of art than an easy listen. But THAT VOICE! Highlights: Pink and White; Ivy; Nikes.

Chance the RapperColouring Book. Joyous and spiritual, uplifting hip-hop with a raft of cameos. Highlights: No Problem; All We Got; Blessings.

SolangeA Seat at the Table. Intensely beautiful RnB delivering a raw and powerful message. Highlights: Cranes in the Sky; Scales; Don’t You Wait.

WhitneyLight Upon the Lake. Indie Rock. Perfect summertime roadie music. Highlights: No Woman; Polly; Follow; No Matter Where We Go.

Hamilton Leithauser + RostamI Had a Dream That You Were Mine. A near-perfect pairing of two celebrated musicians (The Walkmen and Vampire Weekend). Highlights: 1000 Times; Peaceful Morning; The Morning Stars.

PinegroveCardinal. Moving, nostalgic balladry. Wonderful story-telling in each song – the delight is in the small details. Highlights: Old Friends; Cadmium; Waveform.

Hiss Golden MessengerHeart Like a Levee. The sound of worn leather boots on a gravel road. Highlights: Happy Day (Sister my Sister); Tell Her I’m Just Dancing; Biloxi.

Bon Iver22, A Million. Justin Vernon’s vulnerability is all over this record. There is no more lumberjack Vernon here. Beautiful but oh so strange with the most interesting track names I’ve seen in a while. Highlights: 33 “God”; 22 (OVER S–N); ooooo Million.

Drive-By TruckersAmerican Band. This great American band has had enough.Highlights: What It Means; Ever South; Surrender Under Protest.

Give this a whirl at the next party you go to – preferably a 50th :). I put it together for a friend who was having a milestone birthday and made a promise that she would know every song. Although it doesn’t quite fit the ethos of this blog (About me) I had a lot of fun down memory lane. Happy Friday!

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Frank Ocean has been MIA since 2012’s excellent channel Orange. Well, this is what he’s been up to in the interim. Blond is an exceptional album, managing even to rise above the public pressure preceding it. Listening to Blond you can hear a myriad of influences but it all ends up sounding fresh and original. Ocean is indefinable as an artist, unlike many of his contemporaries, although don’t expect the songs on Blond to end up on a top 40 chart anytime soon. There are no anthemic hits or big bangers but the feel of the entire album is wondrously moody. There are also some hilarious cameos: his mum; a friend burnt by Facebook; his 11 year old brother. Brilliant.

Michael Kiwanuka’s album Love and Hate is a glorious, sprawling sophomore release from the talented North-Londoner. It’s a big departure from his ‘safe’ debut album Home Again that, although it showcased his warm soulful voice and superb guitar skill, kept within the traditional boundaries of RnB and soul. This album is another thing altogether.

I have to admit I’ve been solo day-dancing to this. It’s an ode to all of you who were teenagers in the real 80’s. So is Roosevelt authentic? I couldn’t say it better than excruciatingly-hip Pitchfork magazine: Roosevelt is ‘a cocktail of disco, French touch, Ibiza house, yacht rock, and electropop that evokes some crowded Tiki-torch dancefloor lost on the Mediterranean coast. Even the artwork plays the part: Roosevelt (aka Cologne-based producer/DJ Marius Lauben) stands awash in purple light, his name displayed in a sharp, 1980s cursive. It looks like something you’d find on a poolside coffee table of a Malibu mansion after a massive rager, slightly stained with suntan lotion and margarita mix.’

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I’m most definitely not a morning person, being instead a perfectly content habitual owl. However, as any owl knows, the period pre-lunch can be a challenge and needs to be handled with the least amount of stricture. For me, this means shuffling aimlessly around the house in my ancient dressing gown (which will never be replaced, think Linus van Pelt), carrying a bottomless cup of restorative sweet tea. Anything I listen to also has to be similarly restorative.

This playlist is a tender, yet sunny, collection that will gently accompany any fellow morning-phobes as you ease yourselves into the bright light. I’ve book-ended it with two instrumental pieces: the first, ‘Phase’ by Beck from his bliss-filled album ‘Morning phase’ and, the last ‘Avril 14th’ a rarely accessible ambient track from electronic artist Aphex Twin. In between is a whole mash of tunes – lots of acoustic guitar, soft piano and a handful of interesting covers of some old favourites.

And Larks, it can be played in the evenings too…

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